


Letters in Boxes

by karklesthewriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cancer, M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karklesthewriter/pseuds/karklesthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months wasn't a long time to live. You weren't sure you even cared. Still, you regretted you never confessed your feelings. So you left them as letters in boxes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters in Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little drabble I wrote while fucking around in the dirkjake tag. It stemmed from this http://realm-of-the-frozen-snow.tumblr.com/post/37542145954/ignore-my-shitty-prompt-skills-for-a-sec prompt here!

Three months wasn't a long time to live when compared to the normal lifespan of a human. However, when you were dying of cancer, three months dragged on forever. You hated the cancer and how it made you feel like shit all of the time, but you knew that you’d feel worse if you wasted money on treatments that wouldn't work. Getting treatment would also mean telling your little bro, Dave, and all your friends that you were going to die. You wanted as normal of a life as you could have.

You quickly found that the cancer hurt you, all day and all night, all over your body. You kept quiet, though, living as if nothing was wrong. You were fairly sure that no one saw through your facade, but you had projected such a cool exterior for so long that you were a master at remaining outwardly impassive. You lived life to the best quality you could, while handling your more morbid affairs, such as your will, in the privacy of your bedroom in the middle of night.

You decided the worst part of knowing you were going to die was understanding that you could never have a life, a chance, with the boy you had always loved. Jake would never be yours. He had his whole life ahead of him; he deserved happiness. About a month after you were given a date for death, you succeeded in getting Jake and cute little Jane together. She had always liked him and was over the moon about dating the boy of her dreams. The two of them being together hurt down to your core in a way different than that of your illness, but their collective happiness soothed some of the burn. You shoved the heartbreak away. It didn't matter anymore.

You knew you were going to miss Dave a lot. In his twenties, he isn't much of a kid anymore. Taller, broader, looking so much like you. You’re not sure how he’ll fare without you, but you pray he’ll be alright. He’s got those friends of his, John, Rose, and Jade. They’ll try to help. You hope that you raised him okay. You were so young when you two were on your own. You taught him everything you knew and agonized over whether he hated you or not when he was younger. As he grew older, his emotions were more carefully controlled, but he was more affectionate towards you. You knew he cared for you, now, so you weren't worried about his feelings for you. This both saddened and heartened you.

You were going to miss Jane and Roxy. They were stupid and cute and all of you had amazing times together. Jane with her sweet face and baking obsession and emotions that were written across her face. Roxy with her drinking problem and slurred words and infectious laughter. They were sisters to you. Hell, you felt like you had known all of them since birth.

You were going to miss Jake. The love of your fucking life. Stupid, oblivious kid with shaggy dark hair and green eyes and absurdly white teeth. You regretted that you had never tried to proclaim your feelings for him. That was your constant woe. What you would give to go back in time and just kiss him. Your unrequited love was what spurred you to write a letter to him every day when you found out you couldn't beat this cancer. You hoped that he would realize how you felt about him once you were gone.

...Yeah, you didn't want to die.

After three months, you did, though. You could feel it coming. You weren't sure how, but you knew. You brushed your teeth, said goodnight to Dave, hugged him. You went to your room, put some things in order, took a deep breath, and went to bed. You curled up in bed, not even bothering to cry. Your eyes fell closed and you slept. And slept. And slept.

~

You never saw Dave freak out in the morning because you didn't wake him up and come in your room to lose every ounce of cool he’d ever had. Or when he had to summon everyone to your apartment and tearfully break the news. You never saw Dave scream into his pillows, Jake break down, Roxy pass out, or Jane to weep into the couch. You never saw Dave’s friends cry for him.

You never got the phone calls from your lawyers that explained the life insurance and your will. You had left Dave your life insurance money, some of your savings, and your prized possessions- your swords and good quality robots. They had been important to you. Roxy and Jane got half of your savings split between them and a few things that had belonged to your mother.

Jake got the rest of your savings, your familiar apartment, your robotic collection, and a special letter. You would've been glad that he chose to move into the apartment. He made it his home, living in your memory day in and day out. You didn't know how badly he didn’t want to let you go, and that was why he didn't want to open your last letter. He felt like it was cutting a final string from his life, a string from you. One year after you passed away, he opened it, sitting on your worn couch in the living room in the evening, staring at the faded Jake on the front.

You never saw the tears that ran down his face when he read that letter. You had poured your heart out in that thing. You wanted him to have a good life, a fulfilling one with someone he chose and loved. You wanted him to find someone he could adore and go on adventures with and would be absolutely perfect with. You wanted him to know how much you loved him, how he was everything to you, perfect, wonderful. You wanted him to know that you would never forget the dorky kid that loved guns. You wrote it all down, sealed it away.

You never witnessed him scream and cry and panic again, the way he did when he found out you were dead. You never saw him beat on the walls and sob into the pillows and your room and rifle through your things that hadn't been touched and smell your clothes and just cry. You never saw him find the box hidden under your bed, the one waiting for him one day if the universe decided it was meant to be.

It was full of the letters that you had written during your illness. One letter for every day for three months, all carefully sealed and organized in a plain black box. You had talked about your days, where you went, what you did with Dave, conversations you had had, interesting videos and articles you had seen, crazy shit on the news, the crazier shit that came with cancer, the pain you were in, how much you missed him, how much you loved him.

You never guessed that he would sleep in your bed the night he found your letters, the floor littered with them, some splayed out across the comforter. You never guessed that he would take solace in the smell of you in the sheets, cry into your pillows. You never guessed that he would always sleep in that bed, that he would turn it into his room, too, and not let anyone enter. It was his sanctuary, his special space to be with you.

You never guessed that he would break up with Jane, never marry. You had hoped that he would live a happy life, though. You would've been glad to know that he did. You would've been glad to see that, fifty years later, he was still living in your apartment, in your room, in your bed.

You would've been happy to see him tell Roxy and Jane that he was going to go see you again, his best bro, on the night that he passed away. You would've been happy to see them smile at him and kiss him on the forehead, leaving him alone in the apartment once more. You would've been happy to see him crawl into your bed like you did so many years before and sleep. And sleep. And sleep.


End file.
